


Until the Dust Settles

by LadySophieKitty



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: F/M, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 04:30:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9418820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySophieKitty/pseuds/LadySophieKitty
Summary: Here were the facts. One, Jyn expected to die on Scarif. Two, that had allowed her to be more open with Cassian than she normally would have been. Three, that against all odds she had not died. Four, that currently she was lying in a rebel base medical room. Five, that if she had lived, then maybe Cassian did too. Six, since they were both alive, that now she had to face their changing relationship and all that came with it. Now it was beyond a tragic tale of what could have been, and was what could be, and that scared the hell out of her.





	

Here were the facts.

 

One, Jyn Erso had fully expected to die that day.

 

That feeling was nothing new to her, having have more or less sensed her impending death ever since that fateful day where the Empire took her father, killed her mother, and she’d ended up in Saw’s temporary care, in Saw’s Rebellion. In those days, her fellow rebels (those that had been her age, that is, and hadn’t grown battle weary yet) had spoken of their ideal deaths, one where they’d go out in a blaze of glory, taking down as many members of the Empire as possible. Even then she’d scoffed a bit at that, and that version of her death had grown further and further away since then, as the only person she looked out for was herself. Death could be a slit throat or a shot in the back by an unsavory character, and she had been surrounded by those. Nothing glorious about that. When Jyn had been picked up by Cassian’s Rebellion, death had been a close yet far guarantee, close enough that she could sense it, but far enough away that she couldn’t tell when. People in the camps did not last more than five years, and she hadn’t even gotten to the camp before one of her fellow prisoners informed her that he’d kill her. Nothing was waiting for her except a spot in a mass grave, a nameless burial. Not that that would matter, since her name wasn’t even her own at that point. But with that knowledge came a certain peace, which allowed her to complete the mission, even when she thought Cassian had died.

 

Two, that knowledge that she would die had allowed her to be more open with Cassian than she would have been.

 

She’d always been a closed off person, keeping all of her sentiment and emotions in that cave inside that was so buried deep that she didn’t even tell anyone it existed, at least not since she’d told one person and vowed never to again. And yet with Cassian, there’d been lingering glances, closeness, and even the acknowledgement that there’d never been anyone who stayed with her when things got rough. The sense of death had allowed them all to cross the barriers of friendship (and more) faster than it normally would have. Baze too had sensed that, since gruffness and new acquaintanceship aside, his last words had been to call her little sister.

 

 _Welcome home,_ Cassian had said, and she’d carried those words with her, especially at the supposed end when they held each other as tight as possible, watching the incoming blast. For all of her brushes with death over the years, she’d never imagined dying with someone who cared about her, much less a noble act.

 

Three, that against all odds she had not died. Four, that currently she was lying in a rebel base medical room. Five, that if she had lived, then maybe Cassian did too. Six, since they were both alive, that now she had to face their changing relationship and all that came with it. Now it was beyond what could have been, and was what could be, and that scared the _hell_ out of her.

 

Jyn wasn’t used to this. Normally, she would have been more worried about what had happened with the plans, if the death star had been defeated, if their sacrifice had been worth it, if her friends had died for a reason. But any attempts to ask what happened were met with a non answer, and a suggestion that she rest and not worry.

 

“What about Cassian? Is he alive?” Jyn had asked the medical droid, one of the first things she’d said upon waking.  The chances of getting any good and useful information were low, but _something_ would be better than _nothing._

 

“Captain Andor is resting,” was all that she was told, and again, any further questions were met with a suggestion that she should rest. She’d suffered broken ribs and some burns, but nothing that required as much time as she was getting. Jyn had the feeling that the rebellion didn’t know what to do with her, a rebel who wasn’t really a rebel, someone who’d gone off on a suicide mission without permission but on their behalf, and hadn’t died. But she thought of Cassian’s injuries, of his fall and the blaster wound and everything else.

 

And Jyn was conflicted. Should she go to him? That had been her first instinct, as soon as she could move, but she’d been abandoned too many times to act on that, and so she lay there in her indecisiveness for what could have been days. Normally she would have left by now, gone on some new journey with a new identity and a new life, something that would allow her to add Cassian to the cave of bad memories and thoughts. But there was nothing she could do about that now, and the part of her that did not want to leave Cassian was so glad for that.

 

Every day, she moved every limb but mostly tested how her ribs felt, checked the skin beneath the bacta patches as they were changed, and analyzed how healed she was. She was never a good patient, and years of wounds had trained her to tell the precise moment she could leave without causing further damage. And so, with a grimace of pain as her still hurt ribs protested at her moving, she limped off to find Cassian.

 

Who, as it turns out, was in the room next to hers. And asleep (or unconscious, she briefly thought, as she remembered all of the injuries he’d gotten, but she preferred to think of him as sleeping). Jyn watched the rise and fall of his chest and comforted herself with the sound of his loud breathing. She wanted to go to him, wanted to fall asleep in the chair next to his bed, be there when he woke up, but already she felt as though she’d invaded his privacy. Briefly, Jyn imagined the scenario. He would wake up and see her there, and glare at her, and scold her for sleeping like that while injured. And then what? Would he hold her hand? Hold her?

 

Jyn scoffed.

 

_You’ve gone soft, Jyn Erso._

And what did she know of him, really? She’d known him for days. What right did she have to imagine scenarios with him, what he’d say, how he’d look, what he’d do?

But she could still feel the warmth of his body in what was supposed to be the last moments of their lives, the feeling of being held as tight as possible. For all that she would never admit it out loud, Jyn would never forget how that felt. Jyn hadn’t thought of a good death in years, and she’d certainly never thought of a companionable death (there was dying with someone and dying _with_ someone) and yet somehow she’d almost had both. Cassian had shaken so much of what she had known to be true of her life. And for that, Jyn wouldn’t leave the base, even if she also wouldn’t be here when he woke up.

 

So, with a last glance, she walked back to her room.

***

 

Jyn had always been a light sleeper, so when she heard the rustle of clothes the next morning, she jolted awake, only to see Mon Mothma.

 

“I didn’t mean to disturb you. I can leave, if you’d like,” Mothma said. There was a softness there that Jyn had never seen before, and it was one that made her a bit uncomfortable. From their two encounters Mothma had been firm, weary from the strain of the rebellion (Jyn thought of her voice and face when she confirmed that the rebellion wouldn’t take action against the death star) but still strong.

 

Jyn shrugged, a sign for Mothma to keep talking.

 

“The plans you sent got to us safely. The Death Star has been destroyed. In a few days we will be giving medals to the people who destroyed it. We’d like to honor you, as well.”

 

Immediately, Jyn felt horror at the idea. Who was she to be given a medal? Her father was the one who had spent years and years working within the system to build a flaw, Bodhi was the one who had been brave and defected, taking her father’s message with him and then repeatedly going to Imperial sites with them to guide them. Baze and Chirrut had nothing to do with any of them but had taken the grief felt from the loss of their city and turned it into strength. Cassian and the other rebels were the ones who had risked their lives time and time again for the cause. And even Kay-Tu had spent his last moment telling them how to carry on, instead of giving in to self preservation. _It’s not a problem if you don’t look up_ , she’d said. And yes, she’d only said that to hurt Saw, to get to him in a way he’d gotten to her, and yes, she’d saved that little girl on Jedha, and yes, she’d like to think that she would have helped even without her father’s message being a push, but the fact was that Jyn had lived a very selfish existence, mostly only looking out for herself, and that until she had gotten that push, she probably would have left the mission.

 

And Cassian wasn’t awake yet.

 

“No, I don’t want it. The people who destroyed it earned it, not me,” she said. And she waited for a speech from Mothma, one about morale and how showcasing the survivors of the mission would hide all those who died.

 

But instead Mothma gave a sad half smile.

 

“I understand. I’ll leave you to rest now,” Mothma replied, and walked away.

 

“Wait. I’m healed enough now. I need something to do, anything. And Cassian, give the medal to him, when he wakes up,” Jyn said.

 

“I’ll see what I can do.”

 

**

True to Mon Mothma’s word, Jyn soon found herself put to work. Granted, it wasn’t much, seeing as how her position was still shaky and she was injured, but it was better than just being in bed all day.

 

And along the way, she picked up on things. First of all, that she was packing up stuff and getting things together for a big move because the Empire had discovered that the base was on Yavin IV but hadn’t been able to destroy it because Luke Skywalker and Han Solo and other people had gotten to the Death Star first. She discovered that the plans had been given to a Princess Leia, someone only a few years younger than Jyn, who’d been taken by the Empire and tortured and watched the destruction of her home planet but still wouldn’t give up the location of the rebel base (and everyone spoke of her with a hushed respect, Jyn was curious to meet this Princess who inspired so much respect and intimidation from people), and had managed to get the plans to Skywalker beforehand. Jyn had even watched Skywalker and Solo being awarded their medals. She’d had a lump in her throat the entire time, feeling the absence of Chirrut and Baze and Bodhi and Cassian, but she also owed it to them to witness the completion of what they had been willing to die over.

 

She learned that they were going to Hoth, a frozen ice planet. Jyn couldn’t help but smile at that, thinking of Cassian and his heavy Jacket on both Eadu and Jeddha. How would he manage in the cold? But it was the most opposite climate from the mildness of Scarif, so it was a good thing.

 

And one day, while carefully packing up explosives, Jyn heard the steps that somehow she already recognized. She gasped, and spun around.

 

“Cassian,” she murmured, so softly that she could barely hear herself, but somehow he heard her. And then, somehow, she was in his arms, his lips touching her hair. No words needed to be said.  Last time they’d held each other because they were both going to die, now it was because they were both going to _live_ , and maybe they didn’t know how to yet, but they’d figure that out. Together.

 

**

In the end, Jyn did end up receiving her medal.

 

She’d told Mothma that Cassian should be rewarded his, and Cassian had responded that he would not accept unless _she_ accepted, because it was just as much her mission and accomplishment as it was his and would she just stop being so kriffing stubborn and take what was due to her?

 

And so a few days later, the Princess she’d heard so much about gave them their medals, and Jyn reluctantly accepted that she was a war hero.

 

**

Sure enough, Cassian was cold on Hoth, and always using that as an excuse to cuddle up with Jyn. Jyn didn’t mind, she used it as a similar excuse. They both used the cold to share a bed, to hold hands and touch, even to kiss.

 

And throughout all of this intimacy, Jyn would realize that for all the struggles, she was glad that she'd had time to reflect on their relationship and their future and herself. The events between prison and Scarif had been so fast, and without that reflection, she would wonder if she was rushing their relationship, if this was right for her. And and now she was able to say with certainty that being with him was the best thing.

 

 _Welcome home,_ he’d said, and the rebellion _was_ her new home, but mostly he was.


End file.
